


The Gravity of the Situation

by Dietcokediamond



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bladder Control, Desperation, Doctor/Patient, Dubious Science, F/M, Femdom, Light BDSM, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multilingual Character, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Omorashi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Religious sex talk, Sadism, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Wetting, handjobs, mentions of trauma, moira is a bad ass bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25636705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dietcokediamond/pseuds/Dietcokediamond
Summary: (I realized the other day that there is literally NO Sigma omorashi out there?! And I am OFFENDED, come on guys. So, I had to remedy the situation. Also Sigmoira is my overwatch OTP bc batshit crazy scientists)Dr. Siebren de Kuiper is under close surveillance from Talon geneticist Dr. Moira O'Deorain. He finds himself in a rather uncomfortable position, but at least someone seems to be enjoying it...
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain & Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper, Moira O'Deorain/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yo please be aware of tags, if you're not ok with piss you're not gonna dig this. If you want to skip the set-up and get straight to the omo, scroll down to "First things first," OTHERWISE please enjoy this!

It had been 568 days and 13 hours since he was brought to the Talon facility, 547 days since he had first met Moira O'Deorain, and only 52 hours since their practice with gravitic forces had nearly severed his leg.

He could hardly remember what _precisely_ they had been doing when things went awry– some sort of new equation she had calculated, a way of harnessing his newfound control of gravity as a means of consuming energy and, if her hypotheses were correct, projecting it into a sort of force field.

She was correct, of course – he had simply been unable to control the immense amount of kinetic energy required for such a feat, and thus had managed to bring down a banister from the very foundation of the building unto himself – and that was the last thing he remembered.

Now, finally beginning to regain his mental capacity (he so detested the sedatives necessary for surgery, and the grogginess they brought with them for days afterward), he was being wheeled back into Moira’s lab, the fluorescent lights on the ceiling whipping past him.

“Ah, there he is.” He heard her voice now as he was pulled into the room. She sounded unenthused, sardonic, and annoyed – just as it should be. “And here I thought I’d gone and killed him. What a shame.”

A smile cracked across Siebren’s face, his eyes finally focusing on her as she hovered into his line of sight. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He liked Moira a lot – her irreverence, her passion for discovery, her strong will – and her inability to accept defeat. In the time he had been with Talon, she was the only one who seemed to understand how his mind worked – or, at the very least, wasn’t visibly horrified when he explained it.

Her labmates often saw her as difficult to get along with and unempathetic, but Siebren didn’t mind. She was genuine, and inquisitive – and funny, when the mood struck her. Yes, he was quite sure they would enjoy this time together.

“I’ll be monitoring the day-by-day genetic mutations and cell reproduction while his body is in recovery,” Moira explained to the two lackey nurses who had escorted him in here, scribbling furiously onto a clipboard. “We are not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, Dr. O'Deorain,” one of the nurses chirped nervously; by the sound of her voice, she couldn’t have been older than twenty.

When they were finally alone, Moira raised a playful eyebrow and met his gaze. “I suppose I'll get to play God with you a little while longer, then."

"Your favorite," he teases back, the pounding, tumultuous notes in his head finally coming to a lull as it was just the two of them at last.

"Apologies for the straps," she said, gesturing to the binds pinning his arms to his sides against the bed. "I insisted that restraints weren't necessary, but the department heads were quite relentless." She winced slightly; they had actually wanted to put him back into a straitjacket, but she had fought vehemently against that – he had made too much progress to regress back into post-traumatic flashbacks. And… well, she wouldn’t let that happen to him.

“Not to worry,” he assured her, “lab safety is paramount, after all.”

Moira crossed the room and took a small, crinkly container from the cabinet. It was a sterilized specimen cup, which she ripped from its plastic with one swipe of her fingernails. _Impressive…_ thought Siebren.  
  


"First things first, I'll need a sample of your urine to ensure your kidneys aren't flushing out the gravitic coagulant before cell regeneration can commence,” she explained, her mouth pressing into a thin straight line.

Realization washed over him as he looked at the little cup in her hand, back to her somewhat perturbed expression, and then to the ties around his arms – and suddenly he broke into a furious blush.

"I'll, erm, be removing your pants now," she said matter-of-factly, her resolve faltering for just a moment as she grabbed the waistband of his pants. He shivered as her long nails softly scraped against his skin, and felt a long-forgotten, rare, yet painfully familiar twinge in the pit of his gut. As if on cue, he felt a rush of blood shoot to his groin.

"I..." Siebren began to protest, then closed his mouth. It was hardly as if he had any reason to protest - she was his doctor, examining his body purely for the sake of medical research. The fact that he may or may not have found her... _captivating_ should have nothing to do with it.

With a swift tug, she pulled his pants and boxers down to his mid-thighs, revealing his genitals. Moira, despite her best efforts to remain neutral, felt her eyes widen at the sight of him. It should be no surprise that he was large, seeing as he was over 2 meters tall and almost comically stocky, but to see just _how_ large he was, even in a flaccid state, was... Hm. Novel.

Siebren's breath caught in his throat and he averted his gaze to the floor. Although being held captive had become standard practice for him, and he was usually perfectly comfortable being underneath Moira's surveillance, he now found himself squirming under her gaze.

"Now," Moira cleared her throat, and positioned the plastic cup so that it was just beneath the head of his penis. "Urinate until you've reached the black line," she instructed soberly.

Siebren looked down at himself as he willed his muscles to relax, his face a bright shade of red that Moira, in spite of herself, found incredibly charming. "...Ah, give me a moment..." he murmured apologetically, and forced his eyes closed.

The music in his head began building to a high-pitched staccato as he allowed his surroundings to disappear from existence, his consciousness sinking into the black, starry void of space. The niggling noises of ticking clocks and whirring machines blurred and faded until they were gone; everything, everything, everything - gone, blackness now, nothing... just a growing melody, and blackness, and-- release...

With a soft sigh, Siebren was brought back into the present moment as he finally began to fill the cup. This awkward little hiccup would be over soon - Moira would pull his pants back up, and they could begin their experimentation. All would be well-

"That is sufficient," Moira interrupted his thoughts, and with a slight grunt of effort, he forced his muscles shut, cutting off his stream just as it reached full force. Satisfied, Moira screwed the lid securely on the cup and made for her desk, turning back to pull his pants back up almost as an afterthought.

"W-Wait," Siebren stuttered, his groin burning in protest at the interrupted relief. "What about...?"

Moira, already across the room and preparing a series of lab instruments to test the sample with, looked over her shoulder at him. "I will need to take another sample in thirty minutes or so, and then another in 60, to test the rate of your kidneys' production with the new medication," she explained. She carefully measured a bit of the liquid into a pipette, and loaded it beneath the lens of her microscope as she spoke. "To ensure that we have enough for a proper sample each time, it is easier to just wait to empty the bladder after all samples have been collected."

"...I see," Siebren replied, crestfallen. _Easier for who?_

"In the meantime," Moira continued, completely not noticing - or ignoring - his consternation, "I thought we would work on your projectiles. You were getting rather skilled at launching them before your injury, and I'm anxious to see if bodily discomfort has a negative impact on your abilities."

 _Well, we will have no shortage of bodily discomfort..._ Siebren thought ruefully, but forced the thought out of his mind. Yes, he needed to urinate, but it wasn't unbearable - much of his discomfort, he surmised, was psychosomatic in nature; he had started but not finished, and so it simply _felt_ as though his need was much greater than it was. He just needed to focus his mind on something else. He would be perfectly fine, he assured himself.

And, for a while, everything _was_ fine. In fact, as he and Moira conducted their tests, Siebren completely forgot his predicament just as he'd hoped. His injury had rendered his mind a bit weaker than before, but he was pleasantly surprised to see he hadn't regressed substantially. It was really quite enjoyable, spending time with Moira like this, focusing purely on measuring his abilities and laughing at her occasional dry joke.

Then, a tiny, incessant beep sounded from her desk. "Ah, time for another sample now," Moira explained, turning off the timer and grabbing another sterile specimen cup from the cabinet. Siebren winced, his bladder instantly at the forefront of his consciousness once more.

"A-Ah, yes..." he agreed, and squeezed his thighs together a bit. "And, erm, just one more after this one, correct?"

"At least one," Moira answers, unwrapping the cup. "It depends on how this sample differs from the first. Your organs already work nearly twice as quickly as a normal human's, so the extra energy needed to repair a broken bone may impact your cell regeneration substantially. It's rather uncharted territory..." A grin tugged at the sides of her mouth, and Siebren felt an unusual flutter in his chest. Her passion for science was very much like his own, and when she was so deeply enthralled in her work like this, she was... mystifying.

Be that as it may, his problem was becoming rather urgent now. "And... what if I were to void my bladder fully this time?" he suggested as nonchalantly as he could manage, a blush prickling at his cheeks. "And I could drink some water before the next sample?" His mouth was beginning to feel uncomfortably dry, especially after exerting himself through their practice - water sounded unbelievably tempting, despite its inevitable repercussions.

"Hm," Moira huffed noncommittally. "Under normal circumstances, that would be a viable option." Siebren's heart sank, but he did not interrupt. "Your bodily fluids don't act like that of a normal human's, so evacuating the urine from before this afternoon's dose of medication could corrupt the data. It's best to wait."

And now, Moira noticed an intriguing expression clouding Siebren's face. He looked wary, self-conscious, almost… small (if such a thing were possible for someone of his stature). In addition, he seemed to be struggling a bit against his restraints - not trying to escape, but shifting his muscles just enough to make the bed squeak beneath him at the effort. His hips, in particular, had begun rocking ever so slightly side to side.

He was growing desperate. He was _utterly helpless_.

And, to her intense surprise, Moira loved it.

It wasn't as if she'd ever had a particular affinity for this sort of thing in the past - when the need for sexual gratification arose, she would usually put on her trusty low-cut maroon dress, charm the first witless bar hopper who noticed her into buying her a few drinks, have her way, and be back home in bed by 11. And she had certainly never given much thought to urination in that regard either - almost all multicellular organisms had to excrete some form of liquid waste; it was hardly an erogenous act.

And yet, seeing Siebren, an absolute mountain of a man with a superior intellect to boot, squirming against his natural inevitabilities, completely at her mercy...

"Now," she trudged onward, her voice a little huskier than she had intended. She felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks, but refused to let it affect her stony expression. Once again, a little rougher this time, she pulled Siebren's pants down, eliciting a gasp from him. This time, it was she who found herself unable to make eye contact as she placed the cup into position. "To the line, and then stop."

Siebren, shocked at the sudden exposure once more, squeezed his thighs together so tightly that the scarred flesh of his muscles twitched. "I, I don't think..." he began, his entire face flushing a deep red. As loathe as he was to admit the degree of his need to her, having to stop their experiments halfway into the third round because he couldn't hold it would no doubt be much more humiliating - and disheartening, as the day's work up to this point would be rendered useless. "I don't think I'll be able to stop. Perhaps we should have another receptacle at the ready--"

Moira felt a white-hot spark of electricity shoot to her core, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. "Surely a man like yourself is perfectly capable of holding his piss," she chided, adopting a coquettish, if not disparaging tone. She relished this feeling - this control, this _power_ she held over him. Complete control over not only his body, but his ego... specifically, his-

His cock stirred a bit, awakened by her newfound sultry demeanor; he desperately hoped she hadn't noticed.

"To the line," Moira insisted again, and pushed the cup forward, pinching the plastic rim against his testicles. He yelped, distracted by the brief flash of pain, and his stream began immediately this time.

"That's enough." Moira pulled the cup away mere seconds later. He had filled the cup nearly to the top in no time at all, and she had to stifle a grin at his worsening need. Turning away from him long enough to regain her composure, she screwed the lid shut tightly.

To Siebren's horror, he wasn't stopping. A short-lived but significant stream had continued in the time it took him to realize the cup had been removed, and now, struggle though he might, he was unable to taper it off completely, his traitorous member dribbling away against his bare stomach.

"M-Moira!" he cried out in a panic, the melody of the universe building in a frantic crescendo and pulsing in his skull.

Turning back to him, Moira's eyes grew wide. In an instant, she was at his side, and without hesitation she grabbed his leaking penis and gently pinched the tip shut, halting the flow.

A deep, searing blush crept from Siebren's neck all the way to his scalp, the music in his head crashing into an eerie silence.

She... she was actually _touching_ him...

He stared at her now, mouth agape, utterly dumbfounded and awaiting her next move. For the first time, she looked to be as flustered as him, her piercing gaze drifting from his face to his slowly stiffening cock.

"I-I'm sorry," Siebren choked out. For pissing on himself? For his overeager prick? For his flagrant lack of control? He wasn't sure. All he knew was, at that moment he wished very much for a black hole to suck him out of existence.

"Given the circumstances," Moira breathed, encouraged by his body's response, "perhaps I can help make it a bit easier to hold on." With that, she wrapped her long fingers around his cock with a firm squeeze, pulling a guttural moan from him as his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Moira..." he sighed, and to his shame his hips bucked up into her hand, starving for her touch. With a satisfied smirk, she began to tug at him slowly, up and down, up and down, until he was fully erect.

Siebren's head was spinning, a cacophony of jumbled noise coming at him from all angles. His bladder ached. His heart was pounding. His cock was throbbing. His fingers itched to be on Moira's skin... Her lips...

"My god, you're practically a sundial," Moira sneered, releasing his massive manhood. It bobbed sadly onto his stomach, a small bead of clear moisture smearing against his navel. Siebren growled in frustration, causing Moira's pussy to throb. After pulling his pants up and over his straining erection, she made her way across the room to her lab desk once again, hiding her sadistic grin. "The male primate typically finds it more difficult to release urine while erect. I hope that was sufficient."

Siebren let out a groan, his hips rocking back and forth searching desperately for friction. "How long? How long do I have to wait?"

Moira, preparing her microscope once more, "Thirty more minutes until the next sample," she simpered, pressing her face against the lens. She reveled in the dismayed noise he made from behind her. "And after that," she tutted, "for as long as your God deems necessary."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigma reaches his limit, in more ways than one. Moira assists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minnaar = "Lover" in Dutch  
> \---  
> If you enjoyed plz leave a comment/kudos, I actually cared about this one lol >///<

Dr. Siebren de Kuiper was by no means a religious man. The very fundamentals of logical enquiry dictated that, per the Sagan standard, extraordinary claims required extraordinary evidence.

And yet, here he was, writhing helplessly against the long-retired gurney he’d been strapped to, with his prick straining painfully against his damp sweatpants – damp from his own piss -- aching for relief of some kind, _any_ kind…

At the moment, he could almost argue the case for extraordinary evidence -- that Moira was his God, and he was in hell.

When she had touched him just now, he had been mere seconds away from further humiliating himself. A woman’s touch was something Siebren had never particularly sought after in his previous life, and with the years of agonizing _noise_ and _torture_ and _pain_ that had followed the formation of the black hole… well, suffice it to say that sexual release had been the furthest thing from his mind for… _years? ions?_

 _Timeisanillusionaconstructofhumanperception_ , cellos and violins whining madly now, Baroque composer Antonio Vivaldi…

 _TheequationisapparentSunminusGreenwichhourangle_ – Christ, he had to piss…

But Moira was _here_ , and real, and she had touched him.

She had made him feel so warm, so alive, so… _normal_. For a moment she had made him forget his bladder’s terrible need, and replaced it with another entirely. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this… this hot, horrible _want_ …

And now, as she studiously noted her findings under the microscope, seeming very much as though she had forgotten his existence entirely, that desirous need began to wither. Perhaps her actions had been purely practical, a means of using basic human anatomy to staunch further pissing on her lab floor. Perhaps he was a foolish old man falling prey to confirmation bias, and Moira saw him as just another of her lab rabbits.

And yet, he was sure he hadn’t imagined that look in her eyes, that tone of her voice…

Then, she calls herself his God – and a shiver of fear runs down his spine.

_Moira wasn’t like the others before…_

_Moira would not hurt him…_

_…would she…?_

The tempo quickens _, presto, vibrato_ …

“I realize this situation is… difficult,” Moira states disinterestedly, increasing her volume so as to be understood without turning away from her work. “So, for the sake of setting feasible expectations, I’ve set a timer for 15 minutes from now. That way you’ll know when you’re halfway there.”

Moira bit her cheek to keep herself from grinning as she stood up, retrieved a water bottle from the cabinet, and floated over to where Siebren was anxiously crossing and un-crossing his legs.

Her eyes went immediately to his groin, where his penis was still partially erect, although no longer tenting his pants so humorously. “You mentioned needing water,” she said, unscrewing the cap and holding it up to his lips.

He drinks it down at an alarming speed, and Moira’s eyes widen as he gives a few relieved pants, and then huffs, “Another.” Then, with a blush: “Please.”

She grabs another from the cabinet and holds it for him again. He enjoys it a bit slower this time, his heaving chest slowing a bit as he drinks the last of it. Moira allows herself a knowing smirk as she watches his normally flat stomach extend as he drinks, leading her eyes to the rather prominent bulge slightly above his mons pubis. His bladder.

The gravity of the situation is punctuated by the small wet streak that appears along the length of his casted leg, darker than the rest of his sweatpants.

“Out of curiosity, Siebren, when was the last time you relieved yourself?”

He groaned, his hips rocking back and forth with newfound fervor. “Shortly before they strapped me into this damnable thing…” He strained against his binds yet again, his fingers fluttering rapidly with nervous energy. “I don’t normally need to so frequently…”

“As I said, your organs work faster than a normal human’s,” Moira rationalized with a nod. “And the medication is known to have some diuretic properties as well.”

 _Now she tells me_ , Siebren thought miserably, every ounce of his willpower focused solely on holding his piss.

“P-Please Moira,” he begs, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling sharply. “…I am… nearing my limit...”

A tiny moan escapes from Moira’s mouth, her cunt throbbing at his words. She hopes he doesn’t hear it.

He continues: “The bladder can only hold so much before—”

“Before _what_?” she prods, raising a sharp eyebrow.

Siebren opened his eyes, a perturbed look on his face. Why was she being so obtuse? She was a scientist – she knew perfectly well what would happen if…

Realization dawned on his features as he noticed the lascivious look in her eye – the infuriatingly attractive blush that now covered her cheeks.

So, his hypothesis was correct: she _was_ enjoying this.

“Ah, but isn’t that what we are here for?” Moira continues, allowing her façade of professionalism to fade and lowering her voice to an amorous murmur. “To test the boundaries of our limits?”

Siebren felt his cock twitch. Whatever her motives may be, he resolved to do his best. Whether she shared his affections or was simply using him to play out her perverse fantasies, he would do his best for her. Until his body failed him.

“Tell me, Siebren,” Moira hummed, goaded on by his apparent arousal. Slowly, she brought her long fingernails to trace over the bulge in his abdomen, sending a shiver through his body that gave him goosebumps. “What do you need?”

He growled in frustration, squeezing his legs together so tightly that his testicles began to ache. Fleetingly, he wished for a piano, so he could furiously pound away at the keys. “Y-You know!”

“ _Say it_ , Siebren,” she insists.

A sharp pang of desperation overcame him then, causing his hips to jut upward painfully. He swore.

“Agh-- _privaat, alstublieft_!” he cries, his frenzied mind naturally reverting to Dutch.

“And in English?” Moira prodded, her voice the infuriating tone of an overly-patient schoolteacher. To his utter dismay, she was _pressing_ now, _pressing on his bladder!!—_ and another hiss of liquid escapes him, darkening another spot in his pants.

“ _T-Toilet!_ ” he screamed, his voice cracking. He bounced his legs furiously, as if trying to transfer energy from his extremities to his agonized urethra. He could feel tears beading in the corner of his eyes. “Please, I need the toilet! A-a _bedpan_ , a godverdomme _bucket_ , anything!”

Moira beams, wallowing in her power over him as he desperately clings to his self-control. “All in due time, my sweet,” she assures him in a deceptively kind voice.

~X~

She delights in torturing him further, forcing him to practice their projectile exercises once more, but with tiny, precise targets. Over and over and over again, he must focus his consciousness on transporting matter through space – but he cannot afford to divide his attention in such a way, as each throw causes him to dribble into his now sopping boxers. More than once, he feels his entire body tense up, thinking the imminent loss of control is finally upon him – only to have Moira urge him forward, assuring him that stronger focus will be necessary on the battlefield. And somehow, he manages to continue.

The water she had given him had made it to his bladder now, and he is in a constant state of movement; shimmying and crossing his legs, writhing and whimpering against his restraints.

Finally, Moira floated back toward her desk, and Siebren felt his heart skip a beat – _finally_ , they were done, he could—

Instead, she continued past her desk, arriving in front of the emergency eyewash station. With a positively evil grin, she turned it on, springing forth a tinkling little arc of water that would be Siebren’s final undoing.

“Aaaannnggggghh!!” Siebren grunted, the projectiles he had been controlling plummeting to the floor as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He can feel the stability of the earth beneath him disappear as his body rises into the air, pulling the useless gurney along with him. He is shaking with the effort of holding it, and a hissing, stuttering stream begins to pour steadily from him, soaking his sweatpants.

  
He resigns himself to his fate.

He is going to piss his pants. Humiliate himself in front of Moira. Nullify their samples thus far.

But there was only so much a man could take, and he was hardly a young man anymore.

The symphony of the universe is loud, banging, hollow-sounding drums – _pounding, pounding, pounding_ , thunderous, rushing, torrents of water – deep, all-encompassing noise! And, _dammit_ , the beeping of that goddamned timer! 15 minutes to go… impossible…

Moira gapes at him, floating in front of her in desperation, droplets of urine dribbling from the frames of the bed at a steady pace as he slowly loses his fight.

With a gentle tug, she grabs his foot and pulls him back down to her, landing him safely on the ground as she reaches for his exhausted penis.

And, with just a few vigorous strokes, he is fully erect once more, the steady stream reduced to a fractured dribble. Siebren groans, relief ripped from his grasp yet again.

“Shhh, it’s alright, Siebren,” Moira calms him in a quiet, soothing lull. “Nearly there, Siebren…”

In the recesses of her consciousness, she feels a twinge of guilt, of sympathy – but then, as she stares at his monstrous cock in her hands, twitching with effort, her guilt is overshadowed by her power-hungry lust.

“I can’t, Moira!” he begs, his face wrenched into a strained grimace. “ _I can’t hold it_! Forgive me!”

And yet, it’s not coming out… instead, he feels a deep, ravenous ache in his balls emerging, another need pulling at him alongside his desperate need to piss…

“Just do your best for me, _minnaar_ ,” she tuts, bringing her long, delicate fingers to his cheek with the hand that isn’t stroking him.

At the sound of the Dutch word, he startles, and dares to look her in the eye. She is looking at him a bit more gently now, a previously unseen glimmer of affection emanating from her gaze. Moira was most decidedly not Dutch, nor did she have a particular interest in the Dutch culture…

She must have learned this word _for him_. He can’t help but be touched.

“If we must collect more samples later, we collect more samples later,” she continues, wiping the sweat from his brow as she continues to jerk his manhood. “But let me give this one more try…”

Though his bladder still throbbed, the panicked immediacy of his need lessened as his cock responded perkily to her ministrations. Ignoring the uncomfortable wetness of his drenched pants clinging to his skin, he allowed his head to fall back against the gurney.

“Moira… _O, mijn Got_ …” he choked, his eyes closing as his hips began to rock in time with her hand.

“Your God,” Moira agrees with a nod, smiling. “She is very pleased at your obedience…”

She was still enjoying their game, it seemed – and though he was wildly unprepared and unsure how to proceed, he is cheered at her reassurance. How many times had he imagined her doing exactly this…?

But it has been so long – so _very, very long_ , practically another lifetime – since he has been touched like this, and he can feel himself careening towards the edge already.

“I… I don’t know if I can—ah!” Siebren was cut off as Moira began swirling the head of his cock with her thumb, using the precum pooling there.

And then, just as he is reaching his breaking point, she takes her hand away, and Siebren feels as though he might start weeping.

She was perfectly aware of his sensitivity, it seemed – and was going to use it to delay his release for as long as was necessary.

~X~

Moira develops a deep affinity for the flushed look of Siebren’s face as he nears orgasm – as he writhes beneath her, she can see the heat rushing to his cheeks, his eyes beginning to glaze over, his cock growing uncomfortably hot—and then, nothing, as she ceases her movements and lets go of his member, only to begin the process again.

She does this several times, adoring every second of it – and even still, every few moments, a burst of piss will escape from his hardness, his bladder stretched to the brink. He is so incredibly _full_.

“Confess your sins,” Moira demands, slipping her hand beneath her pants to paw at her clit. She is obscenely wet, her pussy aching for attention after all the excitement. “Tell me of your impure thoughts against your God.”

Siebren stared at her masturbating, words failing him entirely. He licked his lips. “I’ve wanted— _hah_ —”

“Out loud, Siebren,” Moira urged.

“I-I have wanted… to take off her clothes,” he finished lamely, regretting the words as soon as they leave him. He was never any good at flirting, and he was already completely out of his element as it was. His mind seemed utterly incapable of being imaginative.

And yet, Moira seemed to find this a perfectly acceptable response. She gave an appreciative hum and slipped two fingers into herself. “Yes… and touch her?”

“Yes, I’ve… I’ve wanted to hoist her in the air… above me…” Siebren pants, “and kiss her breasts…”

Moira keens, giving him a squeeze as she nears her own release. “Siebren… what else?”

“Lick her!” Siebren huffed, precum dripping from him now as his bullocks tightened. “Lick her… _kut_!”

Finally, Moira feels herself clench around her fingers, just as Siebren lets out a strangled cry of her name. Ribbons of seed shot into the air, his vision going black as the universal orchestra grew to its finale, Moira’s hand pumping him until there was no more to give. Suddenly, the timer was beeping again...

And then, without a moment’s reprieve, he began to piss. There was no hope of stopping it now.

Moira, having barely recovered from her own release, zipped to the cabinet and pulled out a third specimen cup and a portable hospital urinal. With a speed Siebren didn’t know she was capable of, she was at his side once more; after collecting the final sample in her cup, she maneuvered his penis into the urinal, chuckling at the roaring sound of the rising liquid.

The moment he was safely inside, Siebren allowed his entire body to relax, every fiber of his being screaming in ecstasy as it poured from him. He let out a long, heaving sigh, his brows lifting at the incredible relief as Moira is forced to readjust to the urinal’s increasing weight.

The symphony was cheering in exultation.

Moira was astonished at just _how much_ there was – he pissed and pissed, happy little sighs and hums escaping his lips as he closed his eyes and just _let go_. His face was the epitome of euphoria.

Soon, she realizes, he will have filled the entire thing – something a normal human bladder would never be able to accomplish.

“It’s almost full,” Moira warned gently, snapping him back to the present moment. She was astonished that his stream still hadn’t even slowed. “Do you think you could…?”

“No,” Siebren begs, his eyes shooting open in fear. “Please, no, I can’t—not a second longer…”

Moira laughs, letting the urinal bottle fall away from him and placing it on the ground with a thud. True to his word, Siebren’s stream never faltered, even as his cock pissed freely down his leg. Intrigued, she carefully takes his flaccid member between two fingers and points it outward for him. “We will have to fully sanitize the lab anyway,” Moira reasons dismissively as his thunderous piss splatters onto the pristine white floor.

On some level, he supposes he should feel ashamed – he had pissed himself, after all, and was currently making an enormous puddle – but he had done what she asked of him. She had collected her final sample.

He had made it.

For the first time since his floodgates had opened, his sensibilities began to return to him - and the absurdity of their situation hit him.

"You will recall," his voice was steady and even now, "that I _did_ warn you about needing a second receptacle..."

Moira guffawed. "You mentioned nothing about a third and fourth, you camel."

Siebren chuckled breathily, the adorable red twinge returning to his cheeks.

“I really…” he began to explain, but found his mind too exhausted to properly describe the severity of his need. Even the music in his head was silent now.

“… _really_ had to go,” he concluded with a shy glance at her, and she laughed sincerely at his understatement. He smiled.

They continued on that way in silence until Siebren's stream finally slowed to a dribble, and eventually ceased altogether.

"You did remarkably well," Moira said tersely, but with a fond stroke of his hair. "How fortuitous that we won't need another round of samples after all." She looked down at the puddle that now covered nearly a third of the room’s floor.

Finally, she moved to release him from his straps, and with a boldness he didn’t know he possessed, he used his newfound freedom to lift his hands up to frame her face and plant a firm kiss on her lips.

"That's enough for today,” Moira concluded, the pretty flush of color returning to her cheeks. “Let’s get you out of those wet pants…”

Siebren smiled, his eyes crinkling. "You are a merciful God, after all..."

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Sigma... I have had so much fucking fun torturing him you guys lmao. 
> 
> Also if y'all could write some more Sigma omo that'd be awesome, cuz we need more :c (I am appalled that I'm the only one to do this, every other OW character gets tons of omo it's not fair)
> 
> Alsoyourcommentsandkudosgivemelife.


End file.
